Salutations
by aozora ekusutashii
Summary: Their friendship came to be with the help of rambling, chilled water, and their love for tennis. [Marui/Jirou]


**salutations**

| prompt: 001 – introduction |

_their friendship came to be with the help of rambling, chilled water, and their love for tennis._

[Marui/Jirou]

.x.

Jirou watches through the wall of wired metal as the ball rolls across the net and falls on the other side.

"Wow," he breathes, eyes sparkling with delight, "_wow_."

_That was amazing._

"Tightrope-walking," the boy with pink-red hair declares, winking at the unknown boy on the other side. "Genius, no?"

His opponent can only splutter incoherent words in reply.

.x.

The redhead wins the match, obviously. No one around here has the skill to beat him.

Marui _is_ called the King of the street tennis courts for a reason, after all.

It's just a pity that his stamina isn't quite as brilliant as his moves.

He breathes harshly as he collapses onto the bench, perspiration dripping from the bangs clinging to his forehead.

A cool sensation is suddenly pressed against his arm before getting taken away just as fast, making him jump in surprise.

_Oh, it's him_, he thinks, recalling having caught a glimpse of an awestruck kid watching the match from beyond the fence.

"Hello," the boy greets him, a wide smile on his cherubic face.

"'Sup," Marui replies casually – or at least as casually as he can, considering that he's still breathless from playing just now.

The boy clasps his hands behind him with childlike innocence – something rare in middle school students nowadays. "I saw your match just now. Your Tightrope-Walking was _awesome_."

Marui blinks a few times, feeling slightly disorientated from the praise. He then eyes the kid warily, wondering if he's from a rival school. It won't do any good for an enemy to know his signature moves, not one bit.

(Firstly, Sanada would make him run a thousand laps. Secondly, if he collapses and dies, Yukimura would make him rise from the dead – he _is_ the Child of God, right? - and make him run _another_ thousand laps. Lather, rise and repeat.)

.x.

Jirou is confused as to why the dark-pink-haired boy is giving him such a distrustful look. Has he said something wrong?

He grows a little anxious at the thought – what if the boy hates him? Oh no, that won't do, that won't do at _all_!

He quickly decides to rectify the mistakes he thinks he has done, and fumbles with the chilled bottle of water he has been holding behind his back.

"Here you go!" Jirou blurts out, thrusting the bottle into the other boy's hands.

"What the–"

"It's a bottle of water I'd gotten from the vending machine," he cuts in hastily, "I just thought that after that match you looked really, _really_ tired, so I thought maybe you'd like a drink or something, but if you don't then that's _totally_ fine, since we don't know each other all too well but your Tightrope Walking is still _amazing_–"

Poor Jirou's babbling again, wrecked with nervousness from thinking that the boy won't accept him.

.x.

Marui taps the bottle onto the rambling boy's arm to get his attention.

The boy's words stumble to a halt as he offers a sheepish smile. "S-sorry about that..."

Marui shakes his head amusedly, before unscrewing the bottle and taking a long, well-deserved drink from it. He takes his time doing it, too.

Finally, the redhead sets the bottle down next to him on the bench and grins boyishly at the antsy kid in front of him. "What's your name?"

"Me? I'm Akutagawa Jirou! You can just call me Jirou though, since my family name is quite a mouthful and everyone I know calls me Jirou." All traces of anxiety seem to have dissipated from the boy's rather cheery reply.

.x.

"What's yours?" Jirou asks, excitement bubbling within him at the prospect of earning a new friend – one who's real good at tennis, too.

The boy smirks, his fingers forming a peace sign. "Marui Bunta, resident volley-specialist and genius at your service."

.x.

**end.**

**disclaimer: **story (c) aozora ekusutashii. Marui Bunta and Akutagawa Jirou (c) Prince of Tennis.

* * *

**author's note:** and so after nearly more than half a year of absence, I'm starting afresh - with a new pen-name, new story, new writing style and new (slightly darker) perception of life.

this is the first of the 100 drabbles challenge I took up from a friend on deviantART, written a few weeks back.

I have a few finished drabbles sitting in my folder, but I'd rather not post them as chapters - they're all of different pairings and characters, so expect the unexpected.

hope you enjoyed reading. do drop a review and let me know what you think of the story, yeah? ^_^

thank you.

..aozora..


End file.
